On the New Talmud Critique: Yitzhak Isakov (Column 676)

In the column before last (674) I mentioned the lecture by Dr. Yitzhak Isakov in the Agassi circle, on the “Coming to the Professors” channel, about odd Talmudic sugyot. I wrote that this is yet another example of contemporary criticism of the Talmud borrowed from Yaron Yadan. In this column I will address the critiques he presented and again examine them using the toolbox listed in that previous column. Generally speaking, if with Elboim the emphasis was on matters of ethics and humanity, with Isakov the emphasis is on bizarre, esoteric, and worthless topics. Precisely because I share some of his critiques, as I will explain, I was appalled by the poor level of his remarks and of the listeners. I don’t know how a student allows himself to learn anything from these professors. Given the abilities reflected in their words there, I wouldn’t grant them even a humanities-track math matriculation.

Why even address this nonsense?

Right at the start, Isakov brings several rather infantile interpretations and piles on some more of his own. I must say that the intellectual level on display there was pitiable and not really worth addressing; it mainly attests to Isakov’s limited capacities and to the ignorance and abilities of his audience (those professors). I already noted in that column the foolish remarks of the audience, which served as a Greek chorus echoing Isakov’s critique, with condescending chuckles devoid of any knowledge or critical sense—fitting for professors (especially in BS studies). Again and again I wondered how these people passed a 3-unit math matriculation? (And perhaps in gender studies and Bible you get in without it, and I just didn’t know?) Truly heartbreaking. Listening to this lecture is only for the stout-hearted. It’s a very harsh experience. To sharpen: I’m not only talking about the arguments, but mainly about the wretchedness of the arguers.

And yet, as I wrote in that column, it turns out that for quite a few ignoramuses like them these things resonate and present an absurd picture of the Talmud and Judaism. Therefore I thought it worthwhile to address at least some of it. You can also glean from this what value should be assigned to the opinions of “academic intellectuals,” who in many cases behave like a herd of zombies.

The opening: “The righteous sit with their crowns on their heads”

Just so you can feel the intellectual horror I went through, I’ll bring what he presents in the opening. He starts with a midrash from Berakhot 17a:

Rav would often say: The World to Come is not like this world. In the World to Come there is no eating and no drinking, no procreation, no commerce, no jealousy, no hatred, and no competition; rather, the righteous sit with their crowns on their heads and enjoy the radiance of the Divine Presence, as it is said: “And they beheld God, and they ate and drank.”

His point is the contradiction that in a world where there is no eating or drinking, the verse says the righteous eat and drink. Amazing, isn’t it? How did he manage to notice such a thing after fifteen hundred years in which we all have been parsing this sugya and somehow missed it? Needless to say, among his audience there was not a single “righteous person” who wondered about it.

Needless to say, the verse itself concerns human beings in this world who behold God while still alive. Indeed, some interpreted that they sinned by eating and drinking while beholding God, since beholding God is without eating and drinking. And this can itself be the proof the Gemara cites. As he testified about himself, Isakov engaged in years-long, in-depth research of the Talmudic text (i.e., in selecting points from the writings of Yaron Yadan, as I explained in that column), and it is no wonder he did not make it to the verses that are the source of this dictum. But he also missed a certain obscure and esoteric Talmudic exegetical source that does address this contradiction. This source is revealed only to initiates—I mean Rashi—on that very sugya:

“And they ate and drank” — they were nourished by the radiance of the Divine Presence, as though they had eaten and drunk.

One can accept Rashi or dispute him. I am the last to ascribe sanctity to aggadot and their interpretations. But even if you don’t accept his interpretation, it seems to me unlikely that Rav, the great Babylonian amora, was an idiot on the level of the people sitting in that lecture. If Rav adduces proof that in the World to Come there is no eating and drinking, and he bases it on a verse that says there is, that certainly calls for explanation. Precisely because it’s so ridiculous and blatant, it’s clear he didn’t miss it. In columns 304 and 431 I discussed the importance of the esteem we accord the studied text, and that when such esteem is absent, misunderstanding ensues. In such a situation, study is nothing but a waste of time. Isakov apparently does not highly esteem the Talmud—and that’s his right, of course. But if that’s his starting point, it seems to me it mainly reflects on him.

I’ll spare you a few more foolish remarks he adds there about the creation of the woman and the like. They’re no better than the one I described. I’ll only say that I too have often expressed my lack of esteem for aggadot, but not out of a simplistic, foolish view of them—rather because in my assessment there is no systematic way to study them, and therefore each person loads onto them his own ideas. In my opinion, at least some of them are in the category of “vortlach,” like we hear at a kiddush in synagogue or at a sheva berakhot: banal points, where the commitment to exegetical precision is not exactly their guiding light. But I never thought these are simply stupid or self-contradictory. An interpretation that rests on blatant contradictions like the one we saw here is infantile even relative to my view of aggadot. The Sages presumably intended to say something—more or less wise—but certainly not something so childishly self-contradictory.

Nor will I take up the conflations Isakov makes between the statements of Yitzhak Yosef and other fools of our time—who in his mind are merely students transmitting the teachings of their masters in the Talmud—and Hazal. He apparently cannot distinguish between sources and the occasional stupid interpretations indeed attached to them. Likewise with his childish treatment of aggadot about the Holy One wearing tefillin, praying to Himself, or getting angry and cursing. And in general, he claims that the Sages “created a new God” and fashioned a substitute for the Bible, while crudely ignoring the fact that in the Bible itself God gets angry and curses mightily. That’s not an invention of Hazal and the Talmud. Well, apparently years of in-depth Talmudic research are not enough to reach those verses. And I haven’t even mentioned his topical remarks about army conscription and the like (as if these are the result of the Talmud), whose apparent aim is to stoke the passions of his listeners so they will join his critique of the Talmud that “caused all this.” Oh, and let’s not forget Isakov’s wonderful question: if studying the Talmud saves the world, what did they do before there was a Talmud? Amazing, isn’t it? How did nobody think of that until him and his profound research?

I must repeat: the spectacle of a bunch of professors sitting and listening attentively to drivel fit for a nursery-school child, with great enjoyment and absolute agreement, no one opening his mouth, is quite difficult. There wasn’t even one child among them to say the emperor has no clothes, or to raise any question at all. The event is nothing short of astonishing—at least for someone unfamiliar with the world of BS studies. If this isn’t a reason to shut down the faculties of BS studies and of the “science” of political correctness, I don’t know what could be a better reason (perhaps aside from the rampage on campuses in the US and Europe that reflects the debasement of academia and exposes its nakedness in public).

Self-intercourse

At minute 28:50 he begins his critiques of specific halakhic sugyot. He opens—to the laughter of all the listeners—by saying that in Sanhedrin 55a the Gemara discusses the case of a man who inserts his sexual organ into his own rectum:

Rav Aḥadboi bar Ami asked Rav Sheshet: What is the law regarding one who has anal intercourse with himself? He said to him: You have wearied us [with absurd questions]. Rav Ashi said: Why is this even a question for you? In a state of erection you cannot find such a case; if you can find such a case, it would be with a dead [flaccid] organ. According to the one who says that in sexual prohibitions intercourse with a dead organ exempts, here too he is exempt; and according to the one who says he is liable, here too he is liable twice—liable as the one who lies and liable as the one who is lain with.

The conclusion is that he is to be punished twice: as the penetrator and as the penetrated (cue more laughter).

Isakov repeats his wonder: how is it that none of the rabbis he “studied” with (yeah, right) mentioned that there are such sugyot? Thus they led him astray after the Talmud. He apparently expected that when he sits with them “healing their eyes,” they would casually mention the grave sugya of one who penetrates himself. Truly strange—how did it happen that they didn’t mention it even by accident? After all, every child who studies Talmud begins and ends with the sugya of self-intercourse, no?

As for the sugya itself, the question of how such a situation could exist in practice is addressed in the Gemara (its answer: using a dead [i.e., flaccid] organ—though even that is extremely unlikely, of course). I assume the question that bothered Isakov was a different one: why even discuss such a thing, even if it is possible? He wonders why such a discussion is important. Perhaps he thinks it is an outlet for sexual fantasies—a perverse amusement of Talmudic sages.

Well, that is ignorance, of course. Sugyot like this essentially seek to examine the relationship between the penetrator and the penetrated, and whether a person can assume two roles simultaneously within the same transgression. Note that the Torah defines the transgression of male same-sex intercourse, in which two people participate: the penetrator and the penetrated. If both engage in it, both are punished, each for committing mishkav zakhar. But if a person commits this act upon himself, there is a very complex logical question whether he can be punished twice for the same transgression. After all, there isn’t a transgression of “the one who lies” and a separate transgression of “the one who is lain with.” There is only one transgression in the Torah, and anyone who takes part in it is punished. This single person took part in it—but why should he be punished twice for one transgression? I discussed a similar issue regarding the “cutter” and the “one being cut” (with peyot) in columns 81 and 366. There you can also see philosophical implications and insights that arise from such a discussion.

More generally, extreme and impractical cases are not infrequently discussed in the Talmud; the aim is to use them to clarify various halakhic and conceptual questions. The goal is not to decide the halakhah for this particular case, but to use this special case as a lab setup for clarifying conceptual questions. This is item 5 in the list in column 674 (see also item 4 there). Isakov’s “questions” strike me as akin to someone challenging Quidditch in the Harry Potter books: “How can they ride a broom? That can’t be, and the game is silly.” Or the cucumber-and-mandrake magic (like R. Akiva in m. Sanhedrin). So here’s a free insight, from me to Isakov and his professors: in the Talmud, as in literature, unusual and impractical scenarios are sometimes used to illustrate situations and insights that are relevant to our practical world as well. People with kindergarten-level reading comprehension really cannot understand that (after all, Harry Potter starts at age 11—which is roughly equivalent to Nobel Prize winners in gender studies).

Testing virginity

Next, Isakov brings Ketubot 10 regarding the test of virginity by seating a woman on a cask of wine. The assumption is that a non-virgin will transmit the scent of the wine from her mouth while a virgin will not (because the passage is blocked). He has a tremendous difficulty with this test: the smell of wine wafts from the cask itself, so it cannot prove that she is not a virgin. He pities the poor women who were accused based on this outlandish test.

Of course one can discuss whether such a test is effective. I am far from thinking that the Sages’ scientific knowledge was perfect, or even that it exceeded the knowledge of their time. But in practice this test was done and conclusions were drawn. Therefore I would try to check it and/or look for a different explanation of the Gemara. But even if not, the Sages’ scientific knowledge reflected what was accepted in their time, so critiques of this sort are irrelevant—unless you presuppose, conservatively, that the Sages had complete and perfect scientific knowledge (see item 1 in the list in that column). The critics and the apologists who argue with them both share that conservative assumption. Rabbi Lau’s words quoted in the lecture (he boasted of the Sages’ scientific knowledge and their understanding of female physiology as reflected in that sugya) reflect the fact (which I described in that column) that both the critics and the apologists suffer from the same conservative fallacy.

But with respect to Isakov’s words I have a different problem, which concerns his scientific logic (I remind you that he lives in 21st-century Israel, not in the 2nd century in the Ancient Near East. From him, unlike from Rabban Gamliel, I would expect up-to-date scientific knowledge): if, as he says, those primitive idiots didn’t notice that a smell wafts from the cask itself, how did anyone ever come out of this test stamped a virgin? After all, there is always a smell. I remind you that the Gemara there describes a comparative test: they compared two maidservants, one a virgin and one not, and Rabban Gamliel showed them that one emerged as a virgin (no smell) and the other as not a virgin (there was a smell). Let Isakov explain. As noted above, a lack of esteem for the text one studies leads people to foolish conclusions and reflects more on them than on the text.

Kiddushin (betrothal) of a woman

Next (minute 36:40) he turns to kiddushin. He begins by citing Niddah 5a and adds a brief comment: “ ‘A girl of three years and one day is betrothed by intercourse’—pedophilia.” This reminds me of what I wrote in the previous column. In brief: the Gemara here is not saying that this is desirable, or even that it is morally or halakhically permitted. The Gemara is not discussing our moral stance toward intercourse with minors. It discusses the halakhic–legal validity of such kiddushin and determines that intercourse is legally defined as such only from age three. Is it practically desirable to betroth a minor by intercourse? As is known, the Sages prohibited betrothal by intercourse even with an adult woman. But that does not hinder Isakov’s “intelligent” remark—fruit, as you recall, of his years of in-depth Talmudic research. Incidentally, there can even be a halakhic prohibition in play, since the Gemara discusses kiddushin of a kohen with a divorcee, and there too it says they are valid even though such intercourse is certainly prohibited by a biblical lo ta‘aseh (and not only morally). That indicates that the discussion of the validity of the kiddushin is unrelated to the halakhic or moral standing of the intercourse itself.

He then brings Avodah Zarah 44b and claims that one can betroth a woman by throwing ox dung at her—but not any ox; only an ox dedicated as a sacrifice. He himself explains that this case is meant to illustrate that kiddushin are valid with the value of a perutah, and therefore they chose an object of minimal value. Well, even if we set aside Isakov’s total misunderstanding of the sugya, I still wonder: what’s wrong with such a discussion? And by the way, one can of course wonder why specifically an ox dedicated as a sacrifice? Is ordinary ox dung worth less? Or perhaps there is another lesson the Gemara seeks to convey? Well, not “another” lesson but a different one. Unsurprisingly, Isakov didn’t understand a thing here either.

First, note that this example, like all his others, is taken from Yaron Yadan (recall: this is Isakov’s “in-depth research”). You can find Yadan’s discussions of this sugya in various videos and articles online, and here is one such article on the “Daat Emet” site. Only, our “in-depth researcher” Isakov did not copy carefully enough from Yadan. First, it concerns an ox dedicated to idolatry, not to a sacrifice. Second, it is not that kiddushin are valid only with such an ox; the Gemara says they are valid even (!) with an ox dedicated to idolatry. Third, he did not understand the sugya at all. The discussion there is not about what monetary value is required for kiddushin (a perutah), nor about the laws of kiddushin at all, as he explains. It is about whether items prohibited for benefit (issurei hana’ah) have monetary value, since such an ox is prohibited for benefit. The Gemara compares it to an ox that gored a person (which is also executed). In other words, the discussion is not to teach that a perutah’s worth is needed to betroth a woman, but that an ox’s dung is not included in the prohibition of benefit of that ox (and the application mentioned is that one can betroth a woman with it).

One can debate whether the prohibition of benefit from an ox dedicated to idolatry is interesting or relevant. But assuming it is—as the Talmud assumes (following the Bible)—it is certainly relevant to examine the boundaries of the prohibition and see what is included in it and what is not, as well as to compare it to other prohibitions. In short, betrothing with ox dung is a lab case used to probe the scope of the prohibition of benefit from an ox dedicated to idolatry. It is not a discussion about kiddushin at all. But for Isakov, the Talmud assumes this is a practical case and is merely interested in ruling whether the woman is betrothed or not. Imagine! How could one write a law book that would not instruct us what to do in such a common and widespread case?! As noted, Isakov also explains that kiddushin are valid only if the ox was dedicated as a sacrifice—but that is, of course, the opposite of what is written in the sugya: it is said even (!) for an ox dedicated to idolatry, not only (!) for an ox dedicated as a sacrifice. In short, the man didn’t understand a word in the sugya and, in my opinion, never saw it (except through Yaron Yadan—and he didn’t understand him either). This is further evidence of Isakov’s “in-depth research” in the sea of the Talmud.

A third case he brings is from Yevamot 59b, in his words: a girl bent over and a dog had anal intercourse with her—may she marry a High Priest. Well, here’s how it actually is. It’s not a girl, but simply a (young) woman; in the case brought there it’s a “riva.” And the question there is not specifically about a High Priest (though you’ll admit that sounds more sensational). The distinction between a High Priest and an ordinary priest is made earlier in the sugya (perhaps that wasn’t brought by Yaron Yadan, so Isakov couldn’t know), since a High Priest is forbidden with any be’ulah (non-virgin) and an ordinary priest only with a zonah. The question is whether such intercourse renders the woman a be’ulah but not a zonah (thus forbidding her only to a High Priest), or even a zonah (thus forbidding her also to an ordinary priest), or to neither (since if this is not considered intercourse, then she is not a zonah either—and she is permitted to all priests). Essentially, the question is whether intercourse by an animal counts as intercourse for this purpose, and whether there is a difference between the usual way and not the usual way. And finally: does any intercourse suffice to define “zonah,” or is there a difference between be’ulah and zonah.

All this returns us to the previous column where I already noted that the Talmud often deals with defining the concept of bi’ah/intercourse, since it has many halakhic consequences. The cases cited in these contexts are not meant to decide the halakhah in the specific cases themselves, but to serve as lab cases aimed at clarifying the meaning of halakhic concepts and principles. By the way, modern legal systems also engage in such clarifications—but I’m sure Isakov wouldn’t utter a word of critique there (well, he apparently didn’t do in-depth research on the legal system; he still has one more field in which to distinguish himself).

His conclusion was that this showcases the Sages’ mode of thought and therefore they should never have been allowed to shape the halakhah that binds us to this day (apparently he would have shaped it in a more “enlightened” way). He of course ignores that most of the concepts under discussion already appear in one way or another in the Torah, and the Sages are merely analyzing and clarifying their meanings. The engagement with these topics draws from the Torah itself and is not an invention of Hazal and the Talmud. The descent into details was indeed done by the Sages and not in the Torah—just as Newton’s laws do not deal with friction on an inclined plane with three pulleys tied by strings, but with the three fundamental laws of dynamics. The applications to specific, complex cases are done by interpreters and by various appliers of that “scientific Torah.”

Attitude toward women

At the next stage Isakov moves to Judaism’s attitude toward women. As is his wont, he mixes contemporary events in Beit Shemesh with various dicta of the Sages. I will not go into all that here, since I would only be repeating myself. But I will say that I share some of his critique regarding the attitude toward women—except that it mirrors the attitude that prevailed in those days.

The adherence of decisors to principles set then is indeed a flaw—but that flaw is theirs, not of the principles and not of the Talmud. Again the conservative issue arises, and again we see his tendentious conflation between the Talmud and various interpretations of it (up to our present rabbis, particularly the laughable conservatives he selectively chooses). One example he brings is Agudat Yisrael’s withdrawal from the government upon Golda’s appointment as prime minister. This is, in his mind, an expression of their attitude toward women—and voilà, another critique of the Talmud. For some reason he ignores the fact that today this probably would not happen, and that it happened only in an especially conservative religious party and not across the religious community that follows the Talmud. For him this is a critique of the Talmud (recall: Yitzhak Yosef is, in his mind, one of the outstanding Sages of Pumbedita, and the newspaper “HaModia,” which he quotes, is apparently also a Talmudic source. According to Isakov, the Talmud was apparently sealed in Heichal Shlomo. Strange—I thought Yaron Yadan sealed it). Moreover, he oddly omits that until a few decades ago, all over the world, women could not vote or be elected. That was the norm in all the “enlightened” societies. This is yet another anachronistic and tendentious critique, like most of his others.

On the substance, it is important to distinguish between the principled attitude toward women and applications based on the social norms prevailing at the time. I have mentioned here before that religious and traditional societies tend to adopt social norms and embed them within their religious–halakhic norm system. One example is honor killing (see column 389, among others). This is a norm that prevailed in the deserts of Arabia and apparently (as was once explained to me) has no source in Islamic legal sources. But in certain groups it is seen as a religious imperative, since for them everything customary is sacred and God-given. If this reminds you of similar features in Jewish halakhah, that is no accident. As noted, I share these critiques too—but they are not critiques of the Talmud; they are critiques of excessive adherence to it.

Conclusion

I repeat: I share some of his critiques of religious conservatism. But I do not conflate critique of certain interpretations with critique of the Talmud. That is research 101, and from professors I would expect a higher awareness of this distinction. In addition, I too raise various critiques of aggadot and of their study—but not the shabby and tendentious mockery of Isakov.

Isakov’s discussions at the beginning of the column—and no less the response of the listening “professors”—remind me of children’s giggles when words “of a coarse kind” are used in a conversation near them (“tush” or “butt”). A child cannot understand that sometimes there is a serious discussion using those terms, and to him it is obvious they are mentioned only because of their coarseness. He doesn’t understand that these are also organs of the human body, and we must learn about them as part of studying our physiology; it’s not only curses and crude jokes. When clarifying different issues in our lives, it is proper and right also to relate to aspects for which modesty is becoming. Precisely here the Sages display openness and maturity worthy of great appreciation—far more than most of their continuers today.

But that is roughly the stage at which the intellectual development of Isakov and his listeners stands. Disappointing and sad, and a painful mirror of some of the discussions and discussants in BS studies. Add to that the tendentiousness born of their attitude toward Judaism, and you get the intellectual trauma I experienced listening to this infantile lecture.